


you better go now

by cabriestars (cabriesun)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff/Banter, Keith Has A Black Belt, Keith Was Previously Involved With Lotor, Keith and Shiro are best friends, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-17 09:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13655994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabriesun/pseuds/cabriestars
Summary: Keith: cautious and fearful after his last relationship with good reason, despite what he tells himself.Lance: inattentive, naive, and too distant from the real world for his own good.Perhaps, this meeting should have occurred sooner.Becausewowdoes Keith wanna kiss Lance.





	you better go now

**Author's Note:**

> a _sweet sweet_ valentine's day fic for [lyn](http://littlelyn100.tumblr.com/)! i was your exchange partner! aaah!
> 
> i sincerely hope you enjoy this klance fic. during the past few months, it's become my child and it's now ready to be released into the real world.
> 
> a huge huge thank you to [haley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboyshiro/pseuds/starboyshiro), [robin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voque) and [cass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/after_midnightmunchies/pseuds/after_midnightmunchies) for beta-ing *sobs*
> 
> and also, thank you to [shance support squad](https://shancesupportsquad.tumblr.com/) for hosting the event!
> 
>  
> 
> the playlist i made for the work! is below!  
> how to listen: **in order**.
> 
> happy valentine's day!  
> 

 

Keith is surprised he remembers most of his first two years of college. His attendance excelled when it came to parties, rather than his classes. He was young and vacuous, wasting every weekend he could afford away; different places, but the same people. Keith became his university’s resident party animal. He still valued his schoolwork and his education, however, there was a tether attached to his neck that pulled him to every outing. There were too many events to count; frats, house parties, raves, pool parties, clubs, and countless more that Keith couldn’t bring himself to remember without getting a headache.  
  
When Keith came to a party, people would _know_. No kegs filled, no songs unsung, and no alcohol unfinished.  
  
There were countless victims to Keith’s drunken animal instincts, a few of which he was only informed after everyone had left and he was nursing a raging hangover. Though despite his pain at the time, he wouldn’t give it up for _anything_. He would take whatever he needed to in order to get back up and attend the next night’s parties.  
  
If he had to choose, his favorites to partake in were probably all raves. Raves usually were hosted on Thursdays (dubbed ‘Thirsty Thursday’ by those he befriended in college) and Saturdays. He loved how he could hide between the shadows of the masses, disappear and reappear when he pleased. Hot bodies distracted him from his agitation and all his focus zeroed in on whichever stranger had decided to approach him. How the night ended would always be up to the person who approached him, and Keith was stripped of making a decision. Which, of course, he had no qualms against.  
  
Parties were an escape from everything Keith had to deal with in the real world. Anything that took him away from that was ideally okay with him. As long as he was drunk, dancing, and waking up next to someone he didn’t know in bed, he was alright. No strings. (Except for the one that always brought him back to the party scene).  
  
He was living vivaciously in his mistakes and he was fine with it.  
  
Until Lotor.  
  
Lotor was the first person that gave Keith that same feeling when he was stone cold sober.  
  
The night they met, Keith was having _too_ much fun at one of the Thursday night raves. It was his first and only blackout, too much alcohol sitting in his system.  
  
All he could possibly say regarding Lotor was that the relationship blossomed as rapidly and tragically as it fell apart. Keith’s carousing dispositions had lulled to a stop in his sophomore year once they developed their relationship. He didn’t miss the parties, he had no _reason_ to because he had an incredible replacement. He instead, chose to live vivaciously, though Lotor.  
  
The man was filled to the brim with adventures, and Keith was sure he’d never meet someone like him again. He’d never felt more full of life without being under the influence the way he did with him. Lotor opened new doors, widened his boundaries and made him second guess almost everything he thought he knew, in the best way. Keith was certain that nothing could top what he had with Lotor.  
  
Putting all his eggs in that basket proved to be the worst move he could possibly make.  
  
The breakup hurt him, more than he would like to admit. When Lotor had walked out of their apartment the night before Keith was set to graduate with his bachelor’s degree, he had no idea what to do with himself. Sprung upon him with the most unpleasant timing, Keith resorted to what he knew he could do best; he exploded.  
  
He lost his voice, his deafening sobs shredding his vocal chords. Glass laid broken and tear-stained on the ground, shards of Keith’s heart sitting beside them.  
  
Graduation the next day was passionless. He tried not to ruin it for the students around him excited to graduate and move on, he _really_ did, but he could only keep it together for so long. Shiro was the one waiting for him after the ceremony, a big smile on his face that soon fell once he saw the tears pricking at the corners of his best friend’s eyes.  
  
Shiro let Keith get as drunk as he needed to, cutting him off when he thought he was getting close to the point of no return. Usually, he wouldn’t be an advocate for it, but he knew Keith was hurting and nothing Shiro could say or do was going to help him.  
  
So he let him drink.  
  
Temporarily.  
  
One morning four months after the breakup, Shiro walked into the kitchen and slid his phone over to Keith, who was scarfing down one of the biggest breakfasts he’d ever prepared himself. Keith picked up his phone, fork still hanging out of his mouth as he read what was written on the screen.  
  
_Shirogane’s Isshinryu School of Karate_  
  
Keith gave him a low glare, eyes lidded over as he dug his fork back into his eggs grumpily. As if he didn’t know that name.  
  
“Go _back_ Keith,” Shiro had begged him, “it served as a center of gravity for you. It kept you grounded and gave you so much meaning. You only quit because of college.”  
  
“Yeah, but it’s in the past now…I left that behind.”  
  
“Not every part of your past was meant to be left there, Keith.”  
  
He stopped eating, but still avoided Shiro’s sympathetic gaze. He knew if he looked, he’d cry. Shiro cared. He cared _so much_.  
  
Keith didn’t know what he’d do without his best friend pushing him forward.  
  
“I know you’re trying to go for your masters, but I also know that you can do both. Keith, you were… _amazing_. You were a fucking _prodigy,_ and you quit. Right after you got your brown belt.”  
  
“Shiro…”  
  
“I know you still love it,” he had encouraged him, “I know you want to go back. Do yourself a favor. Treat yourself right. Don’t you want to reach the finish line?”  
  
“Shiro, will your dad even take me back? It’s been years.”  
  
“You realize I’m a sandan right? And his _son?_ ”  
  
He smiled, shying away as Shiro eased him into a hug, but allowing him to make contact anyway.  
  
“You’re coming back whether my dad wants you or not.”  
  
Keith knew Shiro was right. Training again would help him find peace in the trauma, and at this point, he was willing to try _anything_.  
  
He got his black belt in under two years, setting a dojo record. It was never a race to begin with, the path to a shodan a long and treacherous one. But Keith was a fast learner, which when tangled with his resilience and undeniable determination became a deadly combination.  
  
With time, he learned to love himself again; to learn from his mistakes instead of mourn over them. Keith wasn’t one to tear himself down forever, and that wasn’t going to change because of one ex-boyfriend.  
  
Though at the same time, Lotor would certainly have an effect on what he did in the future. That future, included when he was going out to mingle with other partnerless men.  
  
Keith tugs at the small button on his shirt for the umpteenth time, an annoyed grunt forced out of his mouth. His thumbs were beginning to burn from how many times he’s had to try and button up the damn shirt.  
  
Needless to say, Freshman Keith would be looking down at Graduate Student Keith with shame and agony if his past self could take a glimpse of him now. He had gained his confidence back from his last relationship, sure. He was beyond happy with his life and he’d grown into the man he believed he was meant to be through his training and endless support from Shiro, but hell if he knew a thing about _dating_.  
  
Keith’s confidence with women isn’t that great. This also applies to men. Frankly, it's been a long time. He hasn’t been handling dating again well. The swelling nerves in the pit of his stomach causing him to cringe, shaking his head in an effort to shake away his fear.  
  
“You know, this isn’t the first time you’ve been out,” Shiro is laughing from the doorway, covering his splintering smile with his prosthetic. Keith groans, giving up and unbuttoning another button along with the one he failed to fasten. This is how he was going out and there was nothing else that was going to be said about it.  
  
He’d certainly been to plenty of social events. Enough that Shiro’s statement certainly holds merit. But with every day that passed in the absence of success, he felt discouraged if anything.  
  
“Shiro, _please_. This is the last thing I need.”  
  
“This is the second week Keith,” Shiro sidesteps in front of him, reaching up to secure the buttons he was struggling so copiously with, “it shouldn’t be nerves by now. Just, smooth sailing.”  
  
“Well, it’s _me_ we’re talking about,” His eyes flash away from Shiro’s, “I dunno why I haven’t clicked with anyone yet…”  
  
“It’s not going to happen in an instant,” Shiro willfully reminds him, pulling at his collar with a firm tug. He smooths it out with his fingertips, tossing his best friend a reassuring smile, “it’s gonna take time. You just gotta be confident and have hope that it’ll happen.”  
  
“What if I just gave up, sat here and watched a dumb movie with you?”  
  
“Do you want to do that?”  
  
“…No, not really.”  
  
“Then there’s your answer.”  
  
He departs with a pat on Keith’s tense shoulder, spinning on the ball of his foot. Keith’s gaze doesn’t depart from the mirror standing in front of him. Shiro’s right; he’s done this before and it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.  
  
Retrieving his wallet and bus pass resting at the foot of his bed, he gives his reflection one last acknowledgment before leaving his shared apartment. His voice carries through their home as he calls out to Shiro, letting him know he’s leaving. He hears a muffled ‘okay’ and shuts the door behind him, locking the door swiftly before dragging a damp hand through his hair.  
  
_God, these nerves_ were _unnecessary._  
  
But Keith knows nothing good comes easy, so he enters the elevator swiftly, pressing his thumb against the button and watching the doors shut.  
  
Leaving the apartment complex was always exciting. He never knew what he’d encounter, whether it be entertaining or plain disturbing. It was still something new, and Keith liked that nothing stays the same in his neighborhood. The one thing that kept Keith on edge was constant change; nothing could ever be too ordinary or constant, or he would simply get _bored_. He figures that this is part of the reason why he’s never clicked with anyone he meets in clubs or bars. It made sense, considering they all approached him with the same pickup lines, or just offered him a drink. Each one got checked off as mundane until he decided to turn in for the night. Granted, some of them got straight to the point, asking for sex he was never willing to give.  
  
Tonight was no different, to Keith’s dismay.  
  
He couldn’t say he was upset about it, nor that he didn’t expect it. Slowly, but surely, he could feel his hopes deteriorating with each failed outing, and as he walks to the bus stop the feeling is only amplified. _What if he was never meant to date again?_ The mere thought that Lotor could have been his last makes him physically sick.  
  
With a short groan, he leans on a nearby lamppost, pulling out his phone to text Shiro the bad news.  
  
**keith:** hey, coming home. life sucks. please tell me we have comfort food.  
  
**shiro:** okay. life doesn’t suck, your life just sucks temporarily. we do have comfort food, i went shopping while you were gone.  
  
**keith:** shut up, i know it sucks. and have it out and waiting for my embrace.  
  
Chuckling to himself, he locks his phone and looks up at the sky. It’s nearly impossible to catch a good look where he lived, and ironically the pollution from the city has yet to devastate his view of the stars. There are hints of hope in the gleam in his eyes as he tries to convince himself that he’s just paranoid, and Lotor certainly would _not_ be his last.  
  
The peaceful trance he’d managed to make for himself is eventually interrupted by obnoxious hollering and hooting. The noise comes from the other end of the bus stop, where a group of men stands with disturbing grins painted on their faces. He could assume that they were middle-aged, probably mid-thirties to forties, and he could count four men from where he was standing. They stood farther from the bench seating, lurking in the shadows that cast from the tall buildings beside them. From the way, they’re placed, and the manner in which they’re acting, he finds it okay to presume them as suspicious characters.  
  
Keith narrows his eyes, turning to see what they’re looking at. His head cocks to the side as he spots an unassuming young man, scrolling through his phone.  
  
He has a lean figure that’s outlined by the way he stands, freehand stuffed in the pocket of his rolled up jeans. Nimble fingers fiddle with the screen, a visible chuckle vibrating his body. The man’s eyes don’t stray from his distraction though, leaving him oblivious to the possibility of something suspicious brewing.  
  
Keith keeps a watchful eye on the group of dubious men that are staring him down, even making the effort to take a step closer in case he has to intervene. It’s indeed a wide stretch to assume that something dangerous could happen, but the instincts that adapted with his training speak volumes, and he knows in his core that he can’t ignore even the slightest possibility.  
  
The group gradually shifts closer, spreading around Keith as they move closer to the unassuming man. There was certainly no caution in the way they approached the situation, which makes him chuckle internally, though he wants to yell at the brunette; tell him to fucking look up from his screen, because _how_ can some people miss these obvious signs of imminent danger. Despite his frustration, he makes sure to keep his distance in case his presence made it worse. After all, he had no clue if they were armed or not.  
  
The alarm doesn’t truly set in until he detects two of the four in the group staring him down, talking quietly to each other. It's then that Keith makes a concluding decision to intervene before the likelihood of something unpleasant occurring increases.  
  
After weighing his options for a moment, he decides to approach him and make his presence known. If he’s not alone, he knows that the group won’t pounce.  
  
“God…” he mutters to himself before leaning off the lamppost and striding over to him. Swallowing whatever pride he has left, he yells out a random name, hoping to catch his attention.  
  
“Hey! Andrew!”  
  
The man doesn’t turn around, but he proceeds to reach out and tap his shoulder swiftly anyway. His head spins around, eager to see who’s calling for his attention, and Keith does a double take.  
  
_Blue_. Keith had always loved the color blue, infatuated with the seas and the way it popped out more than any of the other colors. It’s all he saw when he got his first good glimpse of this man he was trying to protect. Blue eyes, more colossal than any ocean he’s seen and bright and innocent like clear summer skies. The colors complimented his tan skin, his hand ablaze when he touches him. He snaps out of it when the hand is being yanked away from him. _Right, this guy could be in danger._  
  
“Uh…who are--”  
  
“Look,” Keith grins, snapping out of the haze and trying to act normal while also hinting that there’s more behind his charade, “it’s just… it’s been so long! I can’t believe we’ve seen each other again it’s just…it must be fate?!”  
  
Keith isn’t good at acting. He never expected this conversation to go this far; he didn’t _prepare_ for this.  
  
“Dude…I’m not--who are--”  
  
He throws a menacing look at the boy, practically screaming at him to play along as he spots the suspicious men look at them from the corner of his eye.  
  
“I’m an old friend! God, don’t you remember college? What an exciting time, right?”  
  
“I’m sorry, you must have the wrong person. Look--”  
  
The screeching tires of the bus interrupt them, and both parties internally sigh in relief. The doors open between them, dozens of people piling in. Keith’s stomach drops, realizing that since the boy with the startling blue eyes is safe, they’ll have to part.  
  
“This is my bus,” He exclaims, pointing to the folding doors, “good luck with, whatever.”  
  
The brunette disappears onto the bus, and in a moment of panic and desperation, Keith follows, showing the driver his bus pass and slipping through the various people standing about. As the bus begins to move, he seats himself beside the boy in a smoother manner than he anticipates.  
  
“Hey,” he grins casually, but the reaction he gets causes him to cower in his seat.  
  
“Dude, stop following me!”  
  
“I’m not following you!” Keith exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, surrendering almost immediately at the sudden outburst, “I was just trying to--”  
  
“What? Stalk me? Find out where I live?”  
  
“Protect you?” Keith realizes how cliché it sounds once it leaves his mouth, biting down on his lip as he gradually becomes embarrassed.  
  
“I don’t understand…” he shakes his head, confusion evident. The martial artist internally groans his hopes of not having to explain washed down the drain.  
  
“Ah…okay so basically, there were these dudes circling you, and I acted like I knew you so you wouldn’t be alone, and easy to attack. Or uh, something like that.”  
  
“ _Attack?_ ” Panic fills his beautiful eyes to the brim, and Keith almost regrets telling him as he watches the transition.  
  
“Maybe that was harsh wording?” Keith tries again, “It just, it seemed _really_ suspicious, and from what I’ve been told to look out for, I thought that maybe something bad would go down.”  
  
“I didn’t see anyone,” he continues to protest, “everything was perfectly fine.”  
  
“No offense, but it’s not like you would have seen anyway. You hadn’t looked up from your phone until I tapped you.”  
  
His face contorts momentarily, trying to comprehend what Keith communicated to him. As soon as he understands, his expression falls and he covers his head with his hands.  
  
“Oh, my god. I can’t even believe I didn’t see them. How could I not _notice?_ This happens all the fucking time. You were probably right to be suspicious, I’m just on another fucking planet--”  
  
“Hey hey, no it’s okay.” Sympathy overflows from him as he leans over to console him, “It’s not like that--I’m just…I can tell. Cause uh…training, and stuff?”  
  
“Training?”  
  
“I uh, have a background in self-defense. It helps, for situations like these.”  
  
“Oh,” he purses his lips, leaning back into his seat, “well, you’re my hero then, aren’t you?”  
  
Keith blushes profusely as the brunette chuckles to himself, tapping his fingers together anxiously. There was a palpable awkwardness between them that the pair could certainly pick up on. Whether or not someone was going to break it or not was the mystery.  
  
“It’s no biggie,” He shrugs, fingering the bus pass in his hold, “I would have done it for anyone…”  
  
“But you did it for me, and I appreciate that.”  
  
The boy with ocean eyes smiles indebtedly, holding out a bronzed hand.  
  
“I’m Lance. Thanks, again.”  
  
“I’m Keith,” His contrasting pale hand reaches out to shake. His touch sends tingles through his fingertips, and his eyes flutter shut for a second. _Wow_. What a fucking _rush_. It’s indeed a pleasant surprise to have a name to put to such a beautiful face. And flawless skin, and God, how could even forget about the _fucking eyes_ …it’s all he could think about.  
  
“So Keith,” Lance folds his arms, turning to face him, “where did you learn to be that perceptive?”  
  
Never approached with this much curiosity regarding his training, Keith finds himself unsure of how to answer the inquiry.  
  
“Karate, ah, a _lot_ of it.”  
  
“How long?”  
  
“A year and a half,” he replies. Lance’s eyebrows quirk up at this, prompting him to question more.  
  
“Was it hard?”  
  
“A little, but the reward is good at the end.”  
  
“I thought it took longer…?”  
  
“I went before, but I quit and came back.”  
  
“Why did you quit?”  
  
Keith’s lips form a flat line. He usually wasn’t a fan of the twenty questions, as it usually got too personal for his tastes. But Lance seemed to be the type of person that didn’t think before he asked. He had no ulterior motive when he questioned him, He was just, _asking_. For the sake of asking. It was refreshing, to just have someone spark a conversation for the sake of starting it.  
  
“Got too busy,” he tells him honestly, “ “once I started grad school there was more time.”  
  
“So what drew you back to it? I can’t imagine that you sat there waiting for the moment to jump back.”  
  
Keith’s heart stutters in his chest, knowing that there’s a five letter word that serves as a solid answer to that question.  
  
“My friend’s dad owns the dojo,” he decides to jump around the true reason, “there was really no avoiding it.”  
  
“I get that,” Lance nods, taking out his cell phone, “my best friend Hunk? His parents are lawyers, and god knows how bad _my_ parents wanted me to be a lawyer. They were hard to avoid too.”  
  
“You didn’t want to be a lawyer?”  
  
“I wanna be a writer.” He turns his phone over to show him a picture of Hunk, “But it’s nothing.”  
  
“Not nothing,” Keith stops him, barely paying any attention to the picture. He _would_ normally, but there’s so much going on right now and Lance is the biggest distraction he’s had in awhile.   
  
“it’s something. At least you’re doing _something_.”  
  
Lance hums, slipping his phone back into his pocket before turning his body fully to face him.  
  
“You’re sweet,” his chin rests on the palm of his hand, slim jawline protruding from the side of his face, “what else is there to you?”  
  
Keith’s entire body is on fire as the conversation with Lance blossoms into something he would never have assumed of the night. The brunette is a lot more than he primarily thought; he’s got an incredible sense of humor, an eccentric family background, and eventually he changes the position he’s sitting in and Keith can’t tear his eyes away from the curve on his hip in those jeans.  
  
_Jesus, have mercy._  
  
The bus ride feels like it lasts for ten minutes; tires screech at the last stop and Keith realizes he’s traveled a solid thirty minutes from where he lives. He recognizes the town as he gets off, following a mellow Lance across the street.  
  
“Familiar?” Lance asks, watching as the elder nods in response.  
  
“A little,” He responds, “might be near my college.”  
  
“Interesting,” The brunette taps his chin, “so I’ll uh, see you around, Keith?”  
  
_Oh_. Lance was back in his town now. He had to get home! Shiro’s probably concerned, waiting in their apartment. Or, he fell asleep. But nonetheless, there’s something eating at him to stretch this out further. Lance is too good to be true and he just doesn’t want to let go. Not yet.  
  
“Let me walk you home?” He offers with an awkward gesture.  
  
“Sure, why not.”  
  
The two of them proceed to walk to Lance’s apartment complex, the tension that settled between them on the bus resurfacing with every step they took. The stars are even brighter where they reside, and Keith’s head spends much more time turned to the sky than in Lance’s direction.  
  
Yes, he’s _nervous_ , despite wanting this. Usually, when he likes somebody, everything he does becomes solely based on impulse. He doesn’t think often, just _acts_. If he doesn’t think, he spirals, which is _usually_ why he doesn’t like to date. But he’s also in his twenties, and life isn’t going to pause for him to get ahold of his emotions. So he might as well learn as he goes.  
  
But he also has to remember to learn along with being wary of his past mistakes. Being too forward is what he believes is the reason for Lotor getting up and leaving him.  
  
Knowing this, he chastises himself harshly for offering to walk Lance home. He should have just asked for his number and left. That would have been a _much_ cleaner more than this. Now everything feels like a mess, and he can’t see things going well in the future.  
  
They enter the complex, Lance guiding them towards the elevator. The main floor looks fairly decent, creamy colored walls and assorted plants surrounding the room giving Keith a homey vibe.  
  
“It’s nice here,” Keith smiles, the latter returning the kind gesture as he presses the ‘up’ button.  
  
“Yeah, most people say that when they come.”  
  
“Do you think otherwise?”  
  
“Well, no…it’s just,” Lance sighs, folding his arms, “the staff members are kind of asses.”  
  
“They are?”  
  
“Certainly could be nicer,” he mutters as the door opens. Both men step inside, Lance reaching across Keith’s lower torso to press the ‘5’ button on the pad.  
  
“Sorry,” he muses awkwardly.  
  
“It’s alright,” Keith replies faintly. The two of them stand beside each other, the thorny tension making it’s anticipated comeback. Keith’s head lolls to the side, spying Lance from the corner of his eye. The boy’s eyes are shut, relaxed as he leans against the elevator.  
  
“You look content,” Keith lets his stance slip, covering his mouth instantly as soon as he says it. But Lance only smiles, turning his head towards him lazily.  
  
“So do you. Suits you; you seem like the kind of person that looks tense all the time.”  
  
The elevator doors creak open, the elder’s eyes wide like saucers. Lance chuckles as he exits, leaving him to follow helplessly.  
  
His apartment isn’t far from the elevator, only a few doors down. As he’s unlocking the door, he fumbles visibly with the keys. An uneasy chuckle tumbles out of his mouth but Keith can only smile. He’s cute; he’s _so fucking cute_.  
  
The door opens to Lance’s apartment and Keith is smacked in the face with ease and comfort as soon as he walks in. The man must obviously have a thing for decorating; there are a solid amount of paintings that circle the decent sized space. It’s certainly bigger than Keith and Shiro’s place, but he still feels _extremely_ welcome.  
  
_Shit,_ he thinks, _Shiro!_  
  
He pulls out his phone and shoots him a quick text, letting him know he’s okay before shutting his phone down.  
  
“Well?” The younger boy brings his attention back to the present situation, “Penny for your thoughts?”  
  
“Jesus…” He stutters, “the-your apartment is really nice. Well decorated and what not…”  
  
“Thanks,” Lance grins, “but really, Keith, let me make you some tea or something.”  
  
“What for?”  
  
He blushes as the brunette glides towards him, insisting he stay.  
  
“You’re literally only here because of my social negligence. _Please_ , let me make you tea or _something_.”  
  
“I mean if you’re okay with it because I can go!” Keith tries to make it clear, “If you want me gone I will leave without a single protest.”  
  
“Here yeah, make yourself at home! I’m gonna change really quickly.”  
  
Lance disappears up the stairs, leaving Keith alone in the room.  
  
“Fuck…” he mutters to himself, passing a hand through his jet black hair, “okay. You stay, you drink tea, have a great time, and you don’t overstay your welcome.”  
  
As long as he kept a cool head, everything would be _fine_.  
  
Keith nods to himself anxiously, swallowing his nerves as Lance bounds back down the stairs fairly quickly. He’s dressed in a thin white t-shirt and sweatpants that could snap kneecaps. The nerves travel from his torso to his gut, bubbling as Lance bounds around and about in his kitchen.  
  
“What do you want?” He asks, turning to Keith. Tan skin peeks out under his shirt, his hip bone fully exposed to his wandering eyes.  
  
_Death. He wants death._  
  
“Breakfast tea, if you have?”

 

~

 

 _Three hours_. It was three in the morning and Keith was laying on Lance’s living room floor, the cup of tea disregarded as he holds his stomach, weak from laughter.  
  
“It’s not that funny!” Lance pouts beside him, sitting in an upright position.  
  
“You--you fucking _fell_ , into your _wall?_ ” Tears stream down Keith’s face, no end to his laughter in sight.  
  
“Quiet down!” The younger man giggles, “the landlord doesn’t know anything yet!”  
  
“He will once you move out!” Keith turns on his back, bracing himself on his elbows.  
  
“Well, that time hasn’t come yet.”  
  
There was no denying it at this point. He liked Lance. _A lot._ In the short period of getting to know him, he was truly infatuated. Everything about the boy was fascinating; the stories he told, along with the enthusiasm behind them were one of his favorite qualities of _many_. He took a genuine interest in Keith and his likes and dislikes, had a beautiful laugh, a lean and beautifully shaped body painted with the most exquisite bronze skin he’s ever seen…  
  
He’s weak in the hands of a man he just met today, and he can’t begin to remember when he’s felt a sensation like this in his heart; a sensation that made him _dangerously_ impulsive.  
  
Keith makes a move to sit up the same time Lance reaches across to retrieve his cup. The two of them stop awkwardly, and just like that, the tension shifts from uncomfortable to sexual.The elder’s heart beats at an unhealthy rate, practically centimeters away from the man swirling around the inside of his head like a hurricane. He can feel his hot minty breath on the tip of his nose, infiltrating his breathing and putting him under a spell that renders him speechless.  
  
At this point, he can’t think, speak, or breathe, so instead, he acts and brings their lips into a spontaneous, heedless kiss. The warmth of his mouth on his is even more spell-binding than his minty breath, eyes fluttering shut against Lance’s cheekbones.  
  
What Keith did doesn’t register in his mind until he feels Lance’s hand reach out to graze his cheek, kissing back tenderly.  
  
_Fuck_.  
  
Their lips split precipitously, panic calibrating with the instinctive man's previous actions. The brown-haired boy looks down at him, eyes heavy-lidded and alluring cobalt blue.  
  
_You better go now, Keith_. _Now_.  
  
“I have to go.”  
  
“What? But I--”  
  
“I’m sorry!” He exclaims, picking up their cups and dodging Lance as he rushes them to the sink, “I-I have class tomorrow, and I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’m sorry for keeping you up this late--”  
  
“What?! Keith stop!”  
  
He ignores Lance, picking up his jacket off the couch and racing toward the front door.  
  
“It was nice meeting you,” he swings the front door open, “but I have class tomorrow morning so I really must be going--”  
  
Every excuse Keith has waiting to be released into the open dies in his throat when Lance pulls him down, pressing his mouth onto the skittish boy’s lips with a blazing ardor. He makes a sound of confusion, unsure of what was happening but Lance’s hands thread themselves in his hair and Keith makes _no_ argument when he tugs down, prompting a rougher, unyielding meld of their lips.  
  
“Holy shit,” he exhales, mouth ghosting his as they both pant wildly. _Was this happening?_ He wants to reach down and pinch himself, just to make sure, but he knows that he’s already being weird enough.  
  
“Keith,” Lance murmurs against his red lips, palms plastered on his shoulder blades, no intentions of haste in sight as he trails them down his arm, “do you have class tomorrow?”  
  
Keith feels his hands being guided to Lance’s hips as soon as he zones back into his reality. _This_ reality. The one where he has a beautiful, eccentric boy trying to inveigle him to his bedroom. Lance, whose dynamic and more electrifying than lightning. Lance, who he wasn’t meant to meet on this clear night. If his aptness to protect hadn’t acted up, he wouldn’t be here.  
  
Keith’s hands; they’re on Lance’s hips. _Right_. Placed with intention, yes, but they’re still there. His grip tightens, finally mustering the credence to look at him. To tear himself away from the feet that stand tall and firm in his resolve, to drowning in Lance’s eyes, where he knows he will crumble at a mere glimpse.  
  
He’s ready. To _hell_ with his inhibitions.  
  
“I--I don’t have class tomorrow,” he barely manages to get out before throwing himself at Lance, kissing him with a frenzy he thought he would never feel again. Keith only just catches the two of them as his knees buckle under the weight of the relief of sexual tension. Lance scrambles to meet him again, crawling on his lap and pressing them together in a tight embrace with the same furor Keith exudes. They’re desperate, both of them starved of touch for far too long. Keith can feel himself trembling with each movement Lance makes, whether it be a grind down in his lap or another feverish kiss on his lips. His hands are everywhere, breathless against his mouth as he makes a move for his dress shirt, unbuttoning it with reckless abandon and throwing it to the side as soon as it’s loose enough to rip off his body.   
  
They pause for a moment, eyes locking immediately as Lance's hands graze back up to the grooves of Keith's bare collarbones, his thumbs dipping into the hollow areas. Lips swollen already, Keith dares to speak and break the sensual stillness between them.  
  
"You want this?" he asks, hands roaming even as they sit still. They hover at his hips again, index finger curling at the waistband of his sweatpants.  
  
"I've wanted this since I invited you inside," Lance responds, the fire in his eyes unquenchable. " _Give it to me_."  
  
Lips connect once more, much slower now. There's a goal this time, with the lewd tension between them broken, and given consent. Keith lets himself fall into the pleasure, putting all of his desire and infatuation for Lance in his kiss. He pulls away momentarily, shifting his focus from his delicate, inviting mouth to his freshly exposed neck. His hands work themselves down his chest, pushing his tank top to the side as his lips descend down his body. Lance is barely breathing above him, small pants leaving his parted mouth. Keith takes his time, making sure to worship every single part of skin he can until he eventually has to just rip off his shirt and toss it to the side beside his own.  
  
"We--" A low moan comes before Lance can get a sentence out. He huffs, grinding up into his ass, still sitting on Keith's lap.   
  
"We should move," he contrives to state, "mm--the bedroom."  
  
"Where?" Keith's fingers drag along his clothed erection and he whines, humping up into his hand.   
  
"Stairs, first door on the left, _hurry_."  
  
He gets it all out in one shot and Keith obeys, picking Lance up by the thighs and carrying him to the bedroom. On the way, he manages to toe off his shoes and socks and tugs Lance's off as well.  
  
Keith kicks the door open with his foot, shutting it as well before walking Lance over to the bed and dropping him on it.  
  
"Jesus," Lance gasps at the sudden contact, "have you no mercy?”  
  
"I'll show you no mercy," Keith grunts as he mounts himself on top, resuming what they had started before. Their mouths slide together, going through the motions with a passion that would put romance movies to shame. Lance's hand reaches up to hold Keith, still gentle despite his desperation. He grinds down slowly, his tight jeans really ruining the mood. Fortunately, Lance catches on and reaches down tentatively to unbutton his jeans. He sighs at the sweet release, dragging them down his legs before working on Lance's bottoms as well. The sweatpants come off with ease and he tosses them off the bed, boxers following not too far behind.  
  
Lance looks even more beautiful when he’s flushed, hair sticking up left and right because of Keith's eager hands. His eyes shine magnetic azure, even more so in the strip of moonlight that peeks through his open blinds. They search for any uncertainty on Keith's end, sparkling with worry, but he knows there is no resolve once his gaze draws him in. He’s weak, though he can't seem to find an issue with it as he takes his own boxers off and follows Lance's directions to where his lube is.  
  
A condom is squeezed into one of the pockets in his wallet, and Lance chuckles at this.  
  
"You know that it's not good to put condoms in wallets, right?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"It wears them out." He grabs at Keith's shoulder blades graciously as he works the condom on while popping open the bottle of lube. "What if it's not safe? Are you clean?"  
  
"I put it in today," he assures him, "but I'll certainly make sure not to do it in the future. And yes, I'm clean. Surprisingly."  
  
"Surprisingly? What's that supposed to mean, hm?" he smirks, pushing his hips up into the air to meet Keith's cock.  
  
"College was a wild ride," he murmurs, kissing him faintly as a hand rushes down his torso to his hole, circling him with palpable leisure in his performance. Lance breaks the kiss, gasping against his lips and moaning quietly. A chuckle escapes Keith as he prods the first finger in, keeping his eyes trained on Lance and his heart physically close to his chest.  
  
"You good?" he breathes into the shell of his ear, causing Lance to mewl as he curls into him. His hot breath is enough to send him spiraling, hand snatching Keith's wrist and arching his back.  
  
"Yes yes yes, more more _more_ ," he begs, crying out as he pushes inside, exploring with his lone finger. His lips still have control of his upper body, sucking dark hickeys into his tan skin, leaving them to bruise with a sweet kiss. A second finger dives in, scissoring him open and complying with every moan and whine that slips from his loosely open mouth.  
  
“Fuck--K- _Keith_ ,” Lance’s voice cracks as Keith curls his fingers inside of him, thrusting in all the right places. He brushes up on his prostate and he jumps off of the mattress, a mix of a moan and a gasp rippling from his body before he lays back down, grinding on his fingers despairingly.  
  
“God,” he huffs, breathing ragged, “Keith, I’m gonna--”  
  
“Not yet.” He stops abruptly and Lance reacts beautifully, his hole puckering when empty and eyes pinching shut.  
  
"We haven't even gotten to the good part."  
  
"You're telling me."  
  
Keith smiles easily at that comment, resting his hands on Lance's shivering hips.  
  
"You're still good, right?" he asks as he aligns himself, digging his knees into the mattress. Lance snickers at him, throwing his head back scarcely in time to glance back at him endearingly.  
  
"Are you?"  
  
Keith makes a sound of approval blended with libido at his counter, taking the lead and pushing in slowly. He makes sure to attend to Lance, showering his body with what he wishes could be never-ending kisses and warm caresses. He returns Keith's tender touches, sucking grateful hickeys into his collarbone while dragging his fingernails down his shoulder blades, undoubtedly cutting deep enough to bruise. The pain aches but meddled with pleasure, Keith shudders at the sensation. It's been so long, _so long_ since he’s felt this way about someone. The mere notion of dating again truly frightens him in spite of what he appears to feel, but Lance makes it so effortless, so _easy_ to let go and love again in such meager time.  
  
It aches how much he’s missed, or rather yearned for, it.  
  
He bottoms out, both of them exchanging heavy pants as Lance brings their lips together again. Keith relishes in the taste of him, sweet with hints of the green tea they had shared before it all collapsed in his bed. A grind down on his cock indicates that Keith needs to get things going or Lance _will_ get himself off, so he proceeds to pull out.  
  
Slowly he comes out until the tip of his head is the only part of him left inside, burying his face in Lance’s flushed neck as he thrusts back down into his hips, burying his cock deep inside of him once more.  
  
"M-More..." His plea barely registers on Keith's radar, but the sensation of his fingernails pressing down into his skin again is enough of a sign to give him more. He eventually picks up a steady pace, roughly fucking into Lance's hole, burying himself in his heat. One hand grips the headboard while the other rubs smooth circles into his lover's hip, opening his eyes to look down. It's a sight he doesn't want anyone else to see. Lance is undeniably sexy fucked out like this, wet abused lips complimenting the sweat marking his hairline. His chest heaves with every thrust Keith drives into him, and he leans down to kiss him gently, slowing down tremendously.  
  
"Lance," he husks, littering his neck with soft kisses before licking a long stripe and bruising him once more, simultaneously picking up his pace again. His back arches off the bed once again, crying out.  
  
"Keith..." His name spills out after a string of incoherent curses, "K-K- _Keith_ I'm gonna come--I-I--"  
  
"I got you, I got you." He cradles Lance awkwardly, moving his left leg to his shoulder so he can nail him in the right spot. "C'mon Lance I got you-- _fuck_ \--"  
  
Thrusts get faster and whines grow louder as the two simultaneously build each other up to their peaks. Keith slams directly into his prostate persistently, Lance tugs his hair down to brings their lips into a heated kiss, and their climaxes crash like waves at high tide.  
  
Lance spurts hot, thick cum on both his and Keith's chests, jumping off of the mattress yet again as Keith falls apart into the condom, body stuttering upon release.  
  
Neither of them can breathe properly, Keith gasping for oxygen and Lance solely lays motionless underneath him, cock still embedded deep within his abused hole. It takes them awhile, but eventually, Keith pulls out of Lance and flops beside him, heaving profoundly.  
  
"Jesus," Lance contrives to sigh extensively, "that, was amazing."  
  
"It was..." Keith is speechless, resting and analyzing the situation alongside him.  
  
"God, I'm so sticky," he continues, "but _so_ tired."  
  
"...Worry about it in the morning?" Lance turns to Keith upon his suggestion, nodding with a wide grin as he curls into his side. Though he freezes as soon as he realizes what he's doing.  
  
"I'm sorry," he apologizes, shrinking away from him, "I didn’t mean to overstep, was that too--"  
  
"No no," Keith motions for him to come back, to rest his head on his chest, "it's okay."  
  
Lance's smile returns, rolling into Keith's arms as he wraps them across his broad, tan chest. Keith nuzzles into the boy's neck, kissing softly before closing his eyes and letting himself drift to slumber in this beautiful stranger's bed.

 

~

 

Keith wakes up to white blinding sunlight in his eyes and the first thing he does is bury himself in the sheets. He hisses, swiping at his eyes and blinking repeatedly for the sake of recovery. He smells breakfast downstairs, the sweet aroma of food spawning an unpleasant growl from his stomach. Keith winces at the sudden sensation.  
  
The night before comes back in flashes. He feels the phantom sensation of Lance’s touch on his exposed body, the sheets not doing him much justice. To be alone pleases him slightly, though it would have been nice to wake up to his face. If he had, he would have been more inclined to start the conversation he knows they have to have one way or another.  
  
Spending time with Lance is, _incredible_ , to make a long story short. From the conversation to the eventual end of the evening, Keith enjoyed it all. Whether Lance enjoyed it or not? That’s where he is mainly concerned. He certainly initiated the kiss that began their downward spiral, but that doesn’t mean that he got a thrill the whole time.  
  
Keith’s stomach drops. _What if he faked his orgasm?_  
  
Briefly remembering the manner in which Lance’s body had raised off the bed when he came, he convinces himself that the orgasm was real.  
  
Humming echoes from downstairs and Keith purses his lips, supposing that if he wants an answer, he can’t just sit in the man’s bed and speculate. The first step is getting dressed and looking slightly presentable. He begins leisurely collecting the articles of clothing that had been thrown haphazardly on Lance’s bedroom floor. As he’s pulling on his boxers he takes a moment to observe what he couldn’t see in the darkness of the night. Posters of various bands and comic heroes are plastered over creamy white walls, bringing life to Lance’s statement regarding his interests. He smiles as he tugs his boxers up his legs, seeking to locate his shirt and pants next. But as he looks around the room, he can’t find the button down.  
  
“Where the hell are they?” he mutters to himself. It’s not until after a few seconds of contemplation and confusion that he realizes his shirt is probably sitting downstairs on Lance’s living room floor.  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” Keith groans, running a hand across his eyes before grabbing his wallet from the bedside table. He trudges down the wooden stairs, turning the corner to a pleasant surprise that makes him forget about what he was looking for.  
  
Or rather, ends the quest for him.  
  
Lance stands in front of his stove, clad in boxers and Keith’s dress shirt, the buttons only done up to his mid-torso. When Keith appears, the boy turns and gives him a sly smirk.  
  
“Looking for something?”  
  
“I…It suits you. I-I mean, it looks good,” Keith stammers, awed by how spectacular Lance looks. His arms barely fill the sleeves of the button down, as they hang loosely past his wrists. Keith liked to buy oversized, and in this moment he’s never been happier that he made that decision.  
  
“The buttons are annoying,” he pouts, “I eventually just gave up.”  
  
“Who said that you had to button them?” Keith asks flirtatiously, forgetting about the momentous conversation he wanted to have in the first place. He strides towards Lance, hands snaking around his back. His fingertips tickle his sensitive stomach and the boy laughs quietly, putting down the fork he’s holding.  
  
“That tickles,” he chuckles, amused by Keith, “but ah, well, we need to talk.”  
  
“I was going to say the same thing, but then I saw you…”  
  
He doesn’t realize what he’s said until he sees Lance’s cheeks turn crimson as his arm hangs lazily around his hip.  
  
“Fuck,” he laughs again, leaning forward, “you’re really smooth. Jesus, how did you stumble into my life like this?”  
  
“Luck, perhaps,” Keith allows himself to ease up as the mood moves from tense to relaxed, “but in all seriousness, I would _really_ like to to do this again.”  
  
“I have to ask,” Lance turns, his back against the counter now, “are you talking about the events that occurring after the twelve o’clock hour, or after the three o’clock hour?”  
  
“Both.” He blurts it out instantly. Lance’s hand cards through his hair as he stares out the window in front of him. It then when Keith realized how straightforward he’s being about his feelings. The _exact_ thing he tells himself not to do every time he meets new people.  
  
“Am I being too forward?” he starts to apologize in the wake of his blunder, “because if I am you can tell me, I don’t want to scare you off or…anything.”  
  
“No, you know what you want. Don’t fall back,” Lance reprimands him calmly, “it’s cute. Not only is it cute, it’s _good_. If you know what you want, _get it_.”  
  
Keith’s face burns at his small lecture. He can’t deny the fact that he’s right. Following that mindset is what got him in Lance’s bed in the first place.  
  
“So...” He bites his lip, hopping up to sit on the counter, “in that case, can I have your number?”  
  
“Check the counter, loverboy,” Lance winks, turning around to pick up the plates of food he made for them, “I’m always going to be one step ahead of you.”  
  
Keith twists his body, peering behind him as Lance disappears into the living room. On the yellow Post-it note stuck to the surface of the counter, a phone number and a winky face are written in red Sharpie marker.  
  
“Get used to it!” Lance calls out.  
  
_Fuck_ , he thinks, grinning as he picks it up. With shaky excited fingers, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it with haste, as if the paper would burn in his hands if he didn’t do it fast enough.  
  
Keith has no qualms whatsoever with adjusting to whatever Lance throws at him. No running, no hiding, and no more second guesses.

**Author's Note:**

> i write this note at five in the morning, exhausted and desiring to fall into an endless void, but i sincerely hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> you can follow my tumblr [sheith-keef](https://sheith-keef.tumblr.com/) here, and the main page for [shiro loves you baby](https://shirolovesyou-baby.tumblr.com/) here.
> 
> also, for your nsfw needs,  
> a writing/art event (coming soon) run by the slyb mods, [#wrecklance2k18](https://wrecklance2k18.tumblr.com/).


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